


Always Chasing Thunder

by noodlecatposts



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friendship/Love, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: Nesta and Cassian have been friends for a while. They met back in middle school, before Nesta became cruel and Cassian became cool and no one else understood  it. Cassian never bothered to respond to the exclamations: How could you be friends with such a cold hearted bitch? Or, Nesta? You mean as in Nesta Archeron? Or, maybe you’re thinking of someone else, a different Nesta?
Relationships: Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt dialogue: "You think you're a better kisser than me? Come here and prove it."

Nesta and Cassian have been friends for a while. They met back in middle school: before Nesta became cruel and Cassian became cool, and no one else understood it. Cassian never bothered to respond to the exclamations: _How could you be friends with such a cold-hearted bitch?_ Or, _Nesta? You mean as in Nesta Archeron?_ Or, _maybe you're thinking of someone else, a different Nesta?_

It didn't bother him, what people said about his best friend. Cassian knew the real girl behind the mask of ice better than anyone else in this world. He'd watched those stormy, cruel eyes drown in tears after her mother died, watched them burn with fire when Nesta's sisters were picked on for their worn clothes, and watched them spark with joy at the sight of her favorite chocolate.

Cassian loves those eyes.

"How'd your date with that guy go?" Cassian asks, pushing the thought away as quickly as it comes.

They're at dinner. Nesta texted early that morning with one simple demand: Tony's _1PM._ Not a request. Nesta didn't request anything. Cassian went anyway; he knows her well enough to know that it's an emergency situation if she's breaking her strict diet for Tony's.

"Fine," is her answer, but he notes the way his friend stabs her fork into her pasta, vicious and unforgiving. He wonders what that guy did, and it triggers a primal instinct to protect her, to defend Nesta at all costs.

"Don't look at me like that," she snaps. Cassian blinks. "I'm capable of taking care of myself. Some fucktard from my bio class isn't going to ruin my week. Screw him."

Cassian plasters a lazy smile on his face to cover his ass. "Is that the problem? You fucked him, and now he won't call back?"

 _Please say no. Please say no. Please say no,_ Cassian begs internally. He can barely admit it to himself, the way his stomach turns at the thought of Nesta rolling in the sheets with some asshole, her long legs wrapped around him, moaning another guy's name–

"Ugh," Nesta wrinkles her nose in disgust. "As if!"

"So, you wanted to, but he didn't?" Cassian doesn't know what's wrong with him. Truly. He doesn't.

Nesta's eyes flare with anger. Perhaps, he's hit a nerve?

"Nes," Cassian says carefully. He knows to tread carefully when faced with that look. The fire gutters in them quickly, which concerns Cassian more than anything.

Nesta remains quiet, stabbing her pasta again and taking another generous bite of her food. She's eating so quickly that Cassian hardly knows if she even tastes it.

"I wanted a second date," she stabs the food again. "He did not."

Oh.

"Shit," Cassian says because he doesn't know what else to say. That guy's a fucking idiot is probably a good start. So is: I'll _go on a second date with you. Fuck, I'll go on a million dates with you._

Nesta snorts. "Thank you for your compassion."

◈

The next time it happens, Nesta shows up at Cassian's apartment with a bottle of wine.

"Nesta?" He's a little delirious, was in the middle of one of those mundane dreams the brain conjures to process the stress of every day. One second he was sitting through a lecture for his English 101 course–a class he passed as a freshman two years ago–and the next, he was in his bed, listening to Nesta pounding on his front door.

Azriel answered the door, looking particularly frumpy and put out by the disturbance. His quiet friend takes one look at the half-drunk Nesta and another at the half-asleep Cassian and sets off back down the hall, eager to return to his sleep.

"Cassian!" Nesta cheers, waving an open wine bottle in the air. Her excitement makes his heart flop in his chest. "You're up!"

"I am now," Cassian ushers his friend inside. "What're you doing here?"

"Elain is sleeping," Nesta tells him matter-of-factly. "Feyre lives with Rhys now, and Rhys doesn't like me."

That's awfully true, but it still sucks to hear out loud. Cassian knows how it bothers her that Feyre's boyfriend dislikes her; it bothers Cassian, but he doesn't know how to solve the matter, doesn't know how to do anything more than toe the precarious line drawn in the sand between two of the most influential people in his life.

Cassian focuses on the one in front of him. "Didn't you have a date tonight?"

"Sucked!" Nesta chirps. She wanders into the kitchen. Cassian watches as she begins pouring some of the wine into a coffee cup; Nesta offers it to him. "Now, we're getting drunk!"

"Sounds like you already are," he drawls, following after her. Nesta's grin is feisty, and it warms the part of him not focused on being concerned about her. Feisty, drunk Nesta can be a lot of fun.

"Working on it," she tells him, sipping from her cup. Nesta offers him one, and he accepts, sipping at the liquid just enough to taste it. Cassian is still half asleep; he's not looking to get wasted right now.

"So, why're you getting drunk with me instead of your date?" He asks because he hates himself.

Nesta scrunches up that adorable nose of hers. "I already told you: it sucked."

"Helpful," Cassian drawls, and she glares at him. "Nes, you're wasted. What went wrong this time?"

"This time? You say that like my dates always go wrong." Nesta glowers into her coffee cup of wine. "Like I'm the problem. Maybe guys just suck."

"Hey now," Cassian defends himself. Nesta rolls her eyes. "I'm awesome. And you are the common factor."

"Excuse me?" She hisses. Cassian smiles. He really, really likes pissing Nesta off.

"Well, hear me out," Cassian smiles, watching her hackles raise. "Maybe, you're being too—Nesta or something."

" _Too Nesta_?" His best friend growls.

"You can be a lot to handle sometimes," Cassian explains. He means well. He's just an idiot who's talked himself into a corner.

"If I'm _too much to handle_ , then they can fuck off," Nesta grumbles into her cup, drinking deeply from it.

Cassian's inclined to agree. They curl up on the couch, and Nesta finishes the wine. After she passes out, Cassian carries her off to his bedroom, and at last, he gets to return to his sleep. It feels a little wrong to share a bed with his best friend like this. Especially lately, as he realizes more and more the depth of his feelings for Nesta, but they've always shared his bed. It would be weird to stop now.

◈

Cassian doesn't know how the argument starts, but it ignites like a fire. Suddenly, Nesta is seeing red and spewing venom at him.

 _Well, maybe you're a lousy kisser_. Cassian had said, offhandedly. He'd clearly struck a nerve; Nesta flipped.

"You think you're a better kisser than me?" She hisses, and Cassian plasters on that shit-eating grin of his, always ready for a fight. Cassian never backs down from a challenge.

"Well, I'm not the one having such a hard time dating, am I?" Fuck. That was mean.

Nesta flushes. "Because you don't _date_. You just like to take people home and fuck them and never speak to them again."

Cassian can't defend himself. It's true. Yet, Nesta doesn't know why he's noncommittal on the relationship front. He hasn't told her that he only engages in casual sex because he's head over heels in love with his best friend—with her.

"Someone's feeling awfully defensive over something that she says isn't true," Cassian drawls.

"Prove it," Nesta growls, eyes burning. "You think you're better at it—that I'm a shitty kisser—prove it. Kiss me."

Cassian goes cold. He knows all the blood has drained from his face. Nesta's fierce gaze remains locked on his. They're stubborn, and both of them are unwilling to stand down.

"Nes," he begins, but the way Nesta juts her chin up in defiance changes his mind. Cassian isn't going to back off with her looking at him like that. Not even if he thinks it's a really, really bad idea.

So, Cassian crosses the room with lazy confidence like he has all day to prove her wrong. Nesta's chin stays high as he cages her in against the desk in his place. They were studying before all hell broke loose. He swallows once, staring down at her. Nesta's arms are crossed, and her blue eyes are the color of the sea before a hurricane.

He cups her face with one large hand, licks his lips in anticipation, and then brushes his lips against hers. A test. Cassian pulls away right away, and Nesta snorts. "C'mon, that's not a kiss. A middle schooler gets more action than that."

"You're such a bitch," he says before leaning back into her space, swiping his tongue against her lips. He's surprised when Nesta allows him to deepens it, to tilt her face back, and kiss her nice and thorough.

Then, she's kissing him back with zeal. She nips at his lips, runs her tongue along the roof of his mouth. Leave it to Nesta to fight back. Everything's a competition.

When they break, they're both breathless. Nesta's face is flushed, and Cassian can't form a coherent thought, much less words.

"I've had better," Nesta declares, and with the kind of indifference only his best friend can pull off, she sits back down at his desk and starts to study.

Cassian's devastated by the reaction. He thought maybe—he doesn't know what he thought. Coughing to clear his throat, he heads back for his bed, but Cassian isn't going to be able to focus on his upcoming history final. No, Cassian's going to be far too busy replaying that earth-shattering kiss to focus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is overdue. 😬

Cassian flashes the woman on the other side of the bar his infamous cocky smile. The move works like a charm, and the brunette flushes prettily, ducking her head and playing shy. It sends a familiar thrill through him; Cassian loves to flirt.

He’s always had a thing for a woman with some curves. He appreciates a body with something to grab onto, likes the feeling of their curves under his hands. This brunette across the bar fits the bill, squeezed into a little black dress that makes Cassian’s head spin.

He’s two seconds from heading over to introduce himself when a cruel, cold voice stops him dead in his tracks. “Should’ve known I’d find you drooling all over some chick.”

Cassian turns towards Nesta, a sly grin stretching across his face. His best friend looks down her nose at him, disapproval written clearly on her face.

If anyone’s ever been a perfect match for what Cassian wants in a woman, it’s Nesta Archeron. It takes a conscious effort not to drink in her appearance, to keep from openly admiring the way her pristine navy sheath dress clings to every dip and curve of her sinful body. She’s just come from her sorority meeting, and her hair is pinned back flawlessly, makeup picture perfect.

Fuck, Cassian would kill for a shot at her, to have a chance at messing up that hair with his fingers, at peeling back that fabric to reveal all the smooth, soft skin beneath it. He thinks he should like to see her with her makeup ruined from rolling around in the sheets with him.

But they kissed. And Nesta didn’t give two shits about it.

“What?” She naps as he smiles at her, hiding his inner turmoil.

“Are you jealous, Nessie?” His friend's eyes are twin blue flames at the nickname. Cassian’s heart leaps at that look; she’s fucking stunning in the dress. The color brings out the blue in those gray eyes of hers.

She holds his gaze for an eternity; she looks away too soon. Nesta snorts. It’s so contrasting to the way she looks, that unladylike gesture, that Cassian chuckles. She cuts her eyes at him. A silent warning to be quiet.

“You’re paying,” she tells him, throwing her bag onto the table and taking a seat. Cassian forgets all about the woman he was flirting with. Nesta is always his first choice for an evening out.

—

Cassian can tell that his laugh is too loud as Nesta leads him home. They’re headed towards her apartment; it’s the closest to the bar, and she insisted she wasn’t going to take care of him if Cassian got shitfaced.

But here Nesta is, anyway—taking care of him.

“You’re my favorite,” he tells her happily, leaning heavily into her for support and laying his head atop of hers. Their height difference makes it easy. Nesta scoffs. “Rhys or Az woulda left my ass back at the bar.”

Cassian can feel Nesta roll her eyes, shoving him off of her. He stumbles back into the wall, using it to hold his weight without Nesta’s support. His best friend opens her door, saying, “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

He slumps against the wall; Cassian’s legs are barely working right now, and there must be an earthquake in Velaris because the floor is moving underneath him. “No, you won’t,” he argues, a sloppy smile on his face. “You’ll never leave me—you loooove me.”

Nesta snarls as she pushes the door inward and goes inside. She leaves it wide open for Cassian but doesn’t help the man inside. Apparently, he is on his own from here.

“Get in oaf,” she hisses. “Before I change my mind and lock you out.”

Cassian stumbles away from the door and flops onto the couch, leaving the door ajar behind him. He thinks he’s about ready to pass out now. He’d like to make it to Nesta’s bed, sneak in some snuggles with a sleepy, vulnerable Nesta, but Cassian doesn’t think he’ll make it that far. The hallway is so long, and Nesta is definitely pissed at him.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Nesta doesn’t share his feelings.

—

“Cassian,” Nesta calls from the kitchen an unidentifiable amount of time later. “Did you fall asleep?”

He snorts in surprise, startling back into consciousness. Nesta flashes him one of her rare, small smiles. They’re so soft and hesitant that it breaks his heart. Cassian would love nothing more than to punish the people in her life that caused Nesta to build such high walls.

“You’re pretty when you smile,” he tells her, feeling soft—and very drunk.

“Shut up,” she tells him, that wall returning in the blink of an eye. It gives Cassian whiplash, these changes in demeanor. “I took all my makeup off; I look like hell.”

Cassian mumbles a sound of protest. He sits up and stretches. “You look way better this way. Like, I dig your little princess look, don’t get me wrong—fucking _hot_. But you look was hot now, too.”

Nesta arches a delicate brow at him. “Nothing you said just made any sense. You contradicted yourself.”

“Well, I’m not the one having a conversation with a drunk man,” he tells her, shrugging. Even drunk, he can tell his smile is dopey. 

A sigh. “I told you that last drink was one too many.”

Cassian just sticks his tongue out at her. “You’re not my mom!”

“And thank god for that,” she retorts. “I’m going to bed now—or would you rather stay here?”

“Nuh-uh.” Cassian stumbles after her, and Nesta snorts, trailing after his drunk shuffle towards the bedroom.

“You’re such an idiot,” Nesta complains, fighting his larger frame for the blankets. Cassian relishes the feeling of the crisp bedsheets sliding over his body; they smell like Nesta.

Sleep takes him quickly before he can form a response.

—

The other side of the bed is empty when Cassian wakes up. He feels like shit; his head is pounding, and his mouth tastes stale. He thinks he’d like to die. With a groan, Cassian flops over in the bed, burying his face into a pillow. He sighs, getting a deep whiff of Nesta’s perfume, and then he remembers.

He told Nesta he thought she was hot.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he mumbles aloud, scolding himself. “Such a fucking dumbass.”

It takes a while for Cassian to pull himself from the bed, but the smell of food cooking and the promise of breakfast motivates him to get out of the bed. He finds Elain on the way to the bathroom.

“Good morning,” she chirps. Her big brown eyes smile at him, twinkling with knowing. “Did you have a good night?”

Very few people ever manage to hear the snark laced within Elain’s sweet voice. Cassian glares at Nesta’s sister, grunting something incomprehensible. Elain’s bell-like laugh chases him all the way to the kitchen.

Nesta is already eating at the breakfast nook, scrolling through her phone with lethal focus. She’ll claim she’s reading the news, but Cassian knows that she’s probably just reading the gossip columns. He has to fight a smile at the thought, trying to resist teasing her. It’s a little early to piss off Nesta.

Besides, he’s hoping she’ll share her breakfast.

“Your plate is on the counter,” Nesta tells him without looking away from her phone.

“You’re my favorite,” Cassian tells her, fetching the plate and joining her at the table.

“So, you keep saying,” she drawls, still scrolling. He makes a point of leaning over her shoulder to see what she’s reading; Nesta hides the screen quickly, shooting him a glare. He was right; it’s a gossip mag.

Cassian doesn’t feel well enough to banter anymore with her. He focuses on eating his food, and Nesta takes pity on him, all but ignoring him while they pick at their breakfast. She even brings him more water when she puts up her own dishes.

Shit, Cassian wishes this woman would notice him.

“I—” Nesta stops midsentence, swallows. Cassian becomes immediately alert; Nesta never stumbles with her words. Never. “I need a favor.”

“What’s up?” He asks, leaning back in his chair.

There’s no hiding Nesta’s scowl. It pains her to ask for help, even from Cassian, who’s known her forever. He’s her best friend, and still, she struggles to ask Cassian for help.

“The sorority is throwing a ball—dance—whatever,” Nesta scoffs, clearly expressing her displeasure at the idea. She’s not much the type to indulge in frivolity; Nesta joined the sorority because of her mother, because she was a part of it during college. Cassian doesn’t think she would have otherwise.

“Anyway,” she says with a sigh. “I need a date.”

Cassian’s head is still cloudy from the drinking last night. He furrows his brow as he thinks, trying to understand what Nesta is asking, or trying to ask. His friend technically hasn’t asked anything of him yet.

Nesta takes in his confused expression. She huffs. “Will you come with me?”

His mind goes blank; his heart leaps with excitement. Did Nesta just ask him out?

Cassian snuffs out the hope in his chest, plastering that shit-eating grin of his on his face. Nesta hides behind a wall of ice; Cassian hides behind his humor. “Are you asking me out, Sweetheart?”

“As if.” Those twin flames return. Nesta bristles. “Just—pretend to be my date.”

“What’s in it for me?” He asks; although, Cassian needs no return for the favor. He’ll do it for Nesta, but he’s also afraid to seem too eager, too interested in taking her out.

Nesta stares him down. “I won’t leave your ass at the bar the next time you get shitfaced.”

Cassian laughs, tossing his head back in amusement and clutching his stomach. He loves how matter of fact she says the words. She acts as if it’s the most apparent trade: Cassian pretends to be her date, and Nesta won’t ditch him the next time he gets drunk.

“Word,” he shrugs. “A night with a bunch of hot chicks and free booze. I’m in.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says.

Cassian grins. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

—


End file.
